


It's Really Serious

by Auggusst



Series: Heart and Mind [12]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Arguing, Beta Natasha Romanov, Beta Sam Wilson, Bond Sickness, Bullet wound, Drama, M/M, Medical Procedures, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Pack Dynamics, Pregnant Tony Stark, Reveal, Revelations, Secrets, THIS IS SO DRAMATIC, Tension, everyone is losing their minds, injuries, sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:20:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24485755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: Rhodey makes a phone call.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Heart and Mind [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670740
Comments: 61
Kudos: 316





	It's Really Serious

**Author's Note:**

> Oh goodness lol here we go!! This is a ride. I'm pretty much immediately starting on the next part, which will certainly be interesting. I hope you enjoy this. Also there's probably tons of typos that I'll fix later lol
> 
> Title from Girlfriend In A Coma by The Smiths, one of my favorites <3

“Can I look yet?” Tony asked.

“Just a second. Don’t be so impatient,” Pepper replied.

Tony could hear her shuffling around the room, no doubt putting on the final touches. She had helped with most of the design of the nursery, had helped a cousin do the same a few years ago. Tony loved her sense of style, trusted it, and had for years, and of course, trusted her to help him with this. Half of the things he owned had been picked by her in one way or another, either directly, or he’d asked her advice when he couldn’t decide between two choices. The same was said for the nursery now. Most of the decisions fell to Tony, of course, but Pepper gave him the right pushes occasionally, talked him out of a few terrible choices.

He was sure it looked amazing now, but he didn’t actually _know_ , because once the furniture arrived and was being put together, he’d been more or less shoved out of the room permanently so she and Rhodey could put it all together for him. Even FRIDAY, the damn traitor, refused to let him get a peek of the room thanks to Pep’s override order. She and Rhodey each had one in case of an emergency, and although he argued they were abusing their power in this instance, he was overruled.

Tony was itching to see it all put together, after several weeks of waiting. They worked on the room on and off, thanks to busy schedules and a load of work, and so it took a little longer than expected. Although drawing out the project gave them all an escape so to speak, from their regular duties and the pressure of working with the Accords, the brunet was getting understandably antsy. He wanted the room set up so he could spend time in it, truly make it his.

Tony was 29 weeks along now, still somehow holding it all together. He was…stubborn. He was so stubborn that Rhodey wanted to wring his neck more often than not. Despite the constant insistence and begging from him and Pepper, Tony still hadn’t reached out to Steve or any of the others, still hadn’t taken that step that would make everything easier. He was still _okay_ , and so was the baby, but it was clear his health was on a downward spiral, no matter how slow it seemed to be.

Tony was sure he would make it to full term, that he could handle it without Steve, endure the Bond Sickness, and then somehow fix himself, but Rhodey? Rhodey wasn’t so sure. He was really anxious about it, actually. Thinking about what would happen, if Tony, god forbid, _lost_ the baby, or got even sicker himself, quite literally plagued Rhodey’s dreams on occasion. Nobody was getting good sleep anymore because of it. Rhodey could pick Tony up from a lot, could support him, put him back together in most instances, but he didn’t think the brunet would be able to come back from something like that, not after everything he’d been through, which was why he didn’t understand why Tony wouldn’t just get _help_.

Things had calmed down in terms of the UN for a bit, thanks to other rising concerns in the world, so while Ross was perhaps starting to get a little suspicious regarding them, and the fact that Steve and the others still hadn’t been found, he hadn’t done anything drastic besides send a few emails or ask for a new tracking algorithm. Tony had no choice but to concede, but that didn’t mean Ross had won.

The updated algorithm Tony designed for the UN would track the rogues, yes, but its protocols delayed the reports. It made sure Steve and his team got a 12 hour head start in every situation. He had to make it believable, to keep the bastards off of his trail, and, if he would admit it to himself, he did sort of want to know where Steve and the others were, what they were up to. As the months passed, his curiosity increased, even if his desire to reach out hadn’t. Ross was naturally frustrated with it, and that secretly delighted Tony. He gave the Secretary some bullshit about the rogues having support, that they were most likely getting help from an unknown third party, and there wasn’t much Tony could do about that. Any ‘updates’ to the algorithm came slowly, with Tony using his health as an excuse, and, well, Ross couldn’t do shit about that.

Rhodey just couldn’t believe that with seeing Steve’s location on the maps, and the occasional, random text messages the brunet sent, that Tony still hadn’t said anything about the baby, and seemed not to have any plans to. It irritated him to no end, _all the damn time_ , but he didn’t know what to do about it.

He tried not to think about it now though, standing here in the nursery, dutifully covering Tony’s eyes while Pepper pulled their gift bags out of the closet, set them on the reclining rocking chair in the corner.

The nursery was beautiful. The wall opposite of the door had a large window, taking up almost the whole wall, and the crib was centered against it. In one corner was a floor lamp, kind of vintage in style but merely a modern reproduction. The room also held a changing table, of course, and a massive closet like most of the rooms at the compound, and a generous toy chest, as well as a bookcase, already filled partly with children’s books. There were a few paintings on the walls too, colorful and playing well off of the warm yellow on the walls, but there was space for plenty more, if Tony wanted to add some. The room itself was spacious too, and held plenty of room for Tony’s child to grow into. The sunlight shone brightly today, and with the thin shades pulled down, it filled the room with a warm, soft light, that highlighted the accent wall: They’d painted the wall opposite of the crib, where the door was, the blue Tony had picked.

Rhodey and Pepper were excited for Tony to see it. There wasn’t much to celebrate lately, so all three of them were glad to make a little event out of this, to forget about their concerns for a few hours. Happy was coming over later too for lunch, was picking up a box of donuts for them along the way.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I never had much patience to begin with, and nowadays, I’ve got even less,” Tony said, though he was smiling a little as he said it.

“Oh, we’ve noticed,” Rhodey said behind him. “You’re lucky we love you enough to put up with you.”

“Aww come on,” Pepper interjected, crossing the room. “He’s got a pretty good excuse, this time.”

That much was true. Tony’s moods changed quicker than the speed of light these days. He could go from happy to miserable to angry to everything in between in the span of a few hours, as was normal for someone 7 months pregnant, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with. It was exhausting, not only for his friends, but for him too. He wished he could control it, but, honestly, he felt like his life was spiraling out of control, and not just hormonally.

He was scared, really. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared. He didn’t know what the future would hold, didn’t know how to get through it all. He told himself he didn’t need Steve, that he could manage without him, but the further along he got in his pregnancy, the more reality began to set in. He felt sick more often than not, almost feverish, and kind of weak in a way that he knew wasn’t just from the effort of growing a child, but that came from his Bond Sickness, from the rift between him and Steve. He spent a lot of time in bed, and had more than enough reason to be miserable.

He’d found out at his last check up, unfortunately, that he probably wouldn’t be able to produce enough breast milk to feed his child himself. Between the intense scarring, both internal and external on his chest, the general trauma it had experienced over the years, and his hormones, altered slightly by his sickness, it just wasn’t happening. They tried supplements, to stimulate lactation, but they didn’t do the trick. Tony had planned on bottle feeding anyway, but something about being _unable_ to produce milk, to have that option, made him feel like a failure, made him feel inadequate as a Carrier. He was self conscious enough, had been before all of this, but now, it all just stung worse. He ended up crying for more than an hour the night he’d found out, lying in bed, too ashamed to even head down the hall to Rhodey’s room to seek comfort.

Over the weeks, Tony listened to whatever advice his medical professionals offered to keep him in decent shape, to make sure his baby was okay, excepting of course, the obvious. Just because he idly texted Steve on occasion (To torment him? To check up on him? Tony wasn’t sure), didn’t mean he was ready to reach out, didn’t mean he knew _how_. Hell, he still hadn’t even had a proper call with him, always declined them whenever they came in. It was surprising how many inconsequential words could be shared through text, really.

Something about the concept of hearing Steve’s voice made Tony nervous though, made him feel like the fragile stability he’d built up over the last few months would break, and everything would come crashing down. He was afraid of getting hurt, of something horrible happening, and didn’t know how to handle it. He knew he was being a coward, but he couldn’t help it. He knew it irritated his friends, but it irritated himself even more.

Things were changing, rapidly, and Tony wasn’t sure how prepared for it all he was. He was going to be a single parent soon, a single _first time_ parent. He was going to have to go through it all by himself, all the trial and error, all the sleepless nights and rough days, but also all the firsts, all the happy moments. He was going to watch his child learn and grow, but was going to do it alone. Of course his friends would be there for him, would help him where they could, but having friends wasn’t the same as having a mate.

Still, he didn’t know what to say or do, kept waiting for the answer to become clear, kept asking himself what to do, to come to a decision, but he never seemed to. It was all going to come to a head eventually, Tony knew, but until it did, he just tried to hang on for the ride, tried to remind himself what he was fighting for. Seeing the nursery, spending time with his loved ones today would surely take his mind off of things, if only for a little while.

He could feel Pepper’s hand settle on his shoulder now, gently squeezing. “Are you ready?” she asked, and he could hear the joy in her tone, smell it in her scent.

“I’ve _been_ ready!” he replied, clasping his hands together.

Pepper laughed a little. “Alright. Rhodey?”

“Okay Tones, get a good look at all our hard work!” the Alpha said, and withdrew his hands from Tony’s eyes, took a step back.

Tony opened his eyes almost immediately, scanned the room, and let out a little gasp.

It was beautiful. It was just what he wanted, what he’d dreamed of all this time. He’d seen all of the parts individually, but the way they came together to make the room? It was perfect, warm and welcoming and kind. He could see it, could see himself here with his baby, reading to him, or sitting in the rocking chair feeding him, or singing him to sleep. He could imagine playing with his darling boy, hearing his laugh, seeing his smiling face. He could imagine his child throughout the years, happy in this room, transforming it into his own.

Tony wanted all of that, despite how scary it would be, what a responsibility it would be. He wanted it badly, more than he could tell. He curled a hand around his belly, could feel his child gently stirring (instead of flat-out kicking for once) and smiled.

“It’s—fuck, it’s beautiful,” he said, looking around the room. “It really is.”

A lump formed in his throat, and he felt his eyes sting. Happy tears were uncommon in his life in general, but especially the last few weeks, even when he seemed to cry at just about anything, and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing now. Tony brought up a hand, wiped the moisture from his eyes and exhaled softly. “It’s perfect. Thank—thanks for helping me these last few months. In everything, not just, you know, the room. I don’t deserve you guys.”

Pepper was beaming at him when he turned to look at her, and she put a hand on his cheek. “We love you, Tony. No need to thank us.”

Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder, smiled in turn. “That’s right. We’ll always be here for you, man. Both of you.”

Tony looked between them, his two best friends, his family, and felt a sense of relief. It may have been temporary, but he would take it now. He nodded, let out a sound that was a cross between a sob and a laugh. He couldn’t find more words, but that was okay, because suddenly they were drawing him into a hug, their warm, comforting scents washing over him, giving him a moment’s reprieve from the aching pain in his neck, the ever-present burning sensation that haunted him, thanks to his bond mark. Tony sagged into their grasp, shut his eyes. Their hold was comforting, always had been, and although it didn’t compare to… _his_ hold, it would suffice for now. Tony wasn’t sure how long they hugged, in their own little bubble, but eventually Rhodey pulled back.

“We’ve got some presents for you too,” he announced, gesturing over to the gift bags by the rocking chair. “Just some things to get you started as a parent.”

Pepper nodded. “Yeah. You probably won’t be in any condition to leave the house for a few days after the birth, so we wanted to make sure you’ve got some things to keep you comfortable, to help you out.”

“There’s about a mountain of diapers already stacked in the closet,” Rhodey joked, though he was telling the truth.

Tony laughed at that, his eyes warm as he regarded his best friend. “Well thank god,” he replied. “Let me see the presents,” he added, making grabby hands towards the bags.

Pepper crossed the room at his request, took the bags off of the chair. She turned back to Tony, her smile blinding. “Come sit and look at them,” she said, patting the rocking chair.

Tony didn’t need to be told twice. He was eager to see exactly what they’d selected. He didn’t doubt there was a gag gift somewhere in the bags too. Rhodey _loved_ to give those.

He took a step forward, excited, but…something was off. He felt lightheaded all of a sudden, kind of nauseous, like the world was spinning, kind of syrupy and distant, and the sudden shift was unsettling, sent a pang of fear straight through him. Tony took a harsh breath, tried to steady himself. He brought a hand up, rubbed his eyes, tried to blink away the errors in his vision. “Ah—“

“Woah, you okay?” Rhodey asked, his arms up and waiting, unsure if he should grasp Tony or if he’d be okay. Sometimes his balance was a little off, thanks to his ever-growing belly, so maybe this was that, just a normal occurrence. Something in the brunet’s expression said otherwise though, and Rhodey’s stomach sank like a stone.

Tony was familiar enough with this feeling, had experienced it more than a handful of times in his life, and he knew what would happen next. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and the world went kind of dark. He swayed on the spot. “I-I don’t—I think I’m gonna—“

That was all the warning he could give before his knees buckled and he promptly passed out.

Rhodey surged forward immediately, thanks to his quick reflexes, and he caught Tony, got an arm under him to keep him from falling to the floor. “Tony!” he said, his heart jumping to his throat.

Pepper was at his side in seconds, helping him support the unconscious Alpha, and the shock on her face mirrored his own. “FRIDAY, get medical down here now!”

_They’re already on their way_ , the AI replied immediately.

“Help me get him over to the chair,” Rhodey said, his brows knit with concern and jaw tight. He rarely panicked, in any situation, thanks to years of combat and training, but he could admit to being more than a little terrified at the moment. What had happened? What was wrong? Nothing like this had happened before, and judging by the distress wafting off of Tony, tainting his scent, things could only go downhill from here. He didn’t seem in pain at least, but suddenly passing out never boded well, in any situation, but especially in Tony’s life.

Pepper was thankfully level-headed, more or less, after years of being dragged into Tony’s crazy life, so she nodded, breathlessly, and together they got Tony over to the chair, tipped it back a little via the reclining latch so he was resting comfortably. He didn’t look too awful, thankfully, maybe a tad pale, but hadn’t woken up yet. Normally Tony only fainted for a minute or two at the most, always got himself awake again quickly, but this time, it seemed to be a different story. His pulse was steady at least, but neither Pepper nor Rhodey felt at ease. Thankfully, they didn’t have to deal with this by themselves. The medical team was on their way.

They waited.

The medical team brought Tony to his bedroom. It was closer than the Med-bay, and although the Alpha would probably be upset later at the invasion of his private space, there were more important things at hand. He hadn’t woken up yet, but scans indicated his vitals were steady, at least, for now. There was no major trauma apparent, and the baby’s heartbeat was steady too, to the relief of everyone.

Rhodey took a deep breath, feeling drained. The medical staff had mostly cleared out of the room now, didn’t want their presence disturbing Tony further as he rested. Rhodey was relieved, and so was Pepper, but that didn’t mean everything was perfect.

“His blood pressure is extremely low,” the doctor had confirmed. “That’s most likely why he passed out. Has he been eating properly?”

“Of course,” Pepper said from where she sat on the side of the bed, gently holding Tony’s hand. “He’s really careful about it. He ate two hours ago too.”

“He might not be getting enough nutrients,” the doctor replied. “It’s not uncommon for someone experiencing Bond Sickness. His body isn’t absorbing the nutrients as well as it should, and expending too much energy trying to find a way to homeostasis, to stave off the adverse effects, resulting in sudden blood pressure drops like this. That, unfortunately, means the situation could impact his baby.”

Rhodey’s brows knit tight. “So you mean…?”

“Low blood pressure, and high blood pressure for that matter, can cause a myriad of problems in any person, but especially in someone carrying. If the situation can’t be brought back under control, it’s very likely that he will go into labor early. This many months ahead of schedule, there’s a chance the baby will survive with extensive medical assistance, but given this particular situation, it’s….the odds aren’t ideal.”

The air seemed to get sucked out of the room. Rhodey and Pepper exchanged glances, the severity of it all dawning on them. Rhodey swallowed hard. “What can we do?”

“Increase his caloric intake. He needs to be eating more than usual. Daily weigh ins too, it’s not unlikely that he may start losing weight instead of gaining it. We’ve got to keep his numbers up, for himself, and for the child. Try to keep his stress level under control to avoid any other unpleasant surprises. Besides that…Well, the best chance at ensuring his health stops declining so rapidly would be to deal with the Bond Sickness, to make contact with his mate. Tony knows that much already, and my team has tried time and time again to convince him to make a move, but he remains adamant on avoiding that option.”

“You don’t have to tell us twice,” Pepper sighed, looking down at Tony’s sleeping form. “We keep trying to talk him into it—he won’t budge.”

“Unfortunately I don’t know anything else that would truly help at this point. Even the communication between him and the Captain might not be entirely enough. Without a physical reconciliation, his Bond Sickness could always plague him, though the effects would certainly be dampened if the emotional aspect would be resolved.”

Rhodey heaved a sigh, pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ll figure something out,” he said. “He’ll be okay for now though?”

The doctor nodded. “He will. He should wake up soon; his body just needed a little rest. Make sure he eats when he wakes up. And don’t hesitate to call us over again if there’s even an inkling of a problem. We’ve made it this far, but it’s still a long way to the home stretch.”

“Thank you,” Pepper said. “We’ll do that.”

The doctor gave them both a look, kind of sympathetic, and nodded. He gathered his things and left the room.

The silence was deafening. Neither knew what to say. They had known, more or less, that it could come to this, that things wouldn’t be easy, but it was still jarring to hear the stakes, to have it all so candidly laid out. Tony had been fine this morning, hadn’t shown any signs that things were different than the last few weeks, but apparently that wasn’t the case. If things could turn on a dime like this, who knew how much worse it could get if they didn’t do anything about it?

Rhodey was angry. He was angry at the world, at Steve, but at Tony too. If he had just listened, if Rhodey’s begging hadn’t gone unheard so many times, maybe this could have been avoided. Now, there was no avoiding it, no matter how hard they tried. He _had_ to call Steve. He had to. They couldn’t keep dancing around it, couldn’t postpone the idea any longer. Rhodey knew Tony wouldn’t concede though, knew that without a push, even now, he’d still try to hold off, to keep going by himself. He was too stubborn, was determined to do this all his way, as if he could ignore the facts and the reality of it all and keep himself going by sheer will. Maybe that was the case for a little while, but it wasn’t anymore. He had to talk to Steve. There was no way around it.

It became clear what Rhodey would have to do.

He let out a sharp exhale, feeling hot and angry, and came around the bedside, reached a hand into the front pocket of Tony’s jeans, where he knew the little flip phone rested. It was _always_ there. He pulled it out while Pepper looked at him incredulously.

“What are you going to do?” she asked, setting a hand on his forearm to keep him from moving.

He frowned heavily, flipped open the phone. “I’m gonna call him. Tony’s not gonna do it himself, no matter what, but I’m not gonna let this shit continue!”

“Wait, wait. Just hold on a second. He’s going to be angry with you, you know that? He’s going to be so angry that—”

“I _don’t care_ if he’s angry with me. He can hate me all he wants, but I won’t let him destroy himself because of this. I won’t fucking let him, Pep. This _needs_ to be fixed and it’s going to be fixed. Today. Don’t try to stop me. You know I’m right.”

Her eyes were full of sympathy, and confliction. Pepper opened her mouth to say something, but couldn’t find the words. “I just…”

Rhodey’s throat tightened, his flashing anger replaced with concern, with a little fear. He didn’t think Pepper would try to stop him. She knew just as he did that this call _had_ to be made, that something had to change.

He found himself speaking anyway, his hand tight on the little device in his hands.

“I can’t watch him do this to himself again. I just can’t. There’s been so many times, so many situations where I held off, where I didn’t do anything, and just let him keep going, but I can’t stand and watch anymore. He can be pissed all he wants. He can send me away if he wants. But the only way I’m getting even a _scrap_ of fucking sleep tonight is if I know this has been done, if there’s a chance things will end up okay.”

Pepper looked at him a moment, saw the determination in his eyes, and also the fear, the concern, and nodded softly.

“Do it,” she said. “Make the call. Just do it before he wakes up.”

Maybe it would be easier this way, with one of them talking to Steve first. Maybe it would alleviate some of the fear, would make Tony more willing to communicate in the long run. She was dreading having to tell him about all of this, couldn’t imagine the way he would react. He would see it as a betrayal, she was sure, of his wishes, of his trust, but this wasn’t _just_ about him anymore. He was being selfish, in a way, with his decisions, and it was up to them to overrule them now, for his sake. It would be unpleasant, and the next few days would surely be tension-filled, but it had to be done.

Rhodey nodded firmly, his gratitude clear in his eyes, and stepped out into the hall, his fingers tight around the phone.

He opened up the message log. There were so many messages, too many, really. He doubted the brunet had deleted a single once since receiving the phone all those months ago. Rhodey didn’t really read them, didn’t want to, but a quick scroll showed him how one-sided it all was, how many of Steve’s texts outnumbered Tony’s. He scoffed a little. Of course. Of course he was sure Steve had been dying to talk, to fix all of this, to make up for his mistakes. Of course Tony didn’t let him, kept his distance, either to punish Steve, or himself, or for another reason. Of course this all could’ve been resolved so long ago, and Tony had postponed it, like he always did when faced with an emotional situation like this.

Rhodey exhaled sharply, kind of annoyed, at the both of them. If they had handled things differently so long ago, none of them would be in this situation now, especially Steve. If he had thought more than two seconds about his decisions during the whole mess, it all could have been avoided. Well, if Rogers wanted to make good on his word, to fix all of this like his texts indicated, he would be getting a chance now. It was a small chance, very limited, but it was better than nothing.

Rhodey took a breath to steel himself, squared his shoulders. He hit the call button, held the phone up to his ear.

* * *

“Keep a little pressure on the wound,” Natasha said from the cockpit, flipping the switches and starting up the Quinjet.

“I’ve got it. Steve, grab the first aid kit!” Sam replied.

Steve jumped into action, practically tore open the storage compartment on the side of the jet and pulled out their medical supplies, bringing them over to where Wanda was stretched out on the floor. Her face was pale and twisted in pain, and the bullet lodged in her side, thankfully not too deeply, was at the forefront of all of their minds, among their own minor injuries. They’d fallen into a trap during their latest mission, unfortunately, and had just gotten in the clear.

The bastards had been waiting for them, ambushed them when the team followed a tracking blip into an old warehouse in Romania, and the ensuing fight was difficult. The Hydra agents were well armed, better trained than those they’d encountered lately, and it made everything that much harder to deal with. The odds were stacked against them, with plenty of enemies to fight, and no element of surprise, and although they won, it wasn’t without hardship. Wanda had to do a lot of the heavy lifting so to speak, and the team had been kind of out of sync lately, thanks to rising tensions, so coordinating out on the field was tougher than before.

Steve’s Bond Sickness was clear and present now, in his temperature, a constant feverish heat that couldn’t have been natural, in the unpleasant turn of his scent, off-putting and distressing, in the bags under his eyes, the blue of his irises much paler than usual, as if the color had been sucked out of them. He felt sick, truly, like there was an infection in his veins, exhausting him, pulling him down, and his body did its best to fight it off, but to no avail. Steve’s temper grew exponentially as a result, when he found that his perfect body was failing him, couldn’t keep him functioning at 100% like he wished it would, and he did his best to quell the anger, but sometimes it was impossible. He was conflicted, uneasy every moment of the day. More than once he’d made one of the others flinch with the tone of his voice during an argument, or with a sudden growl if he’d been caught off guard. It was harder to focus on the mission, on making good choices, on staying _sane_ and it was to the detriment of all of them. They were patient as long as they could be, tried to understand, to help him, but things were just getting worse, with no clear way to improve things, and patience was wearing thin all around.

Natasha had long since started to second guess their decision, Steve’s decision, to follow this path, and at this point, was torn between staying on the ride or getting off, doing damage control. Was it right to continue this way? Was this the _only_ way? Or should they turn themselves in to the UN, suffer the consequences of their actions, and try to build something better back up? Could there be a day when things would go back to normal, or something like normal? She wasn’t sure.

Sam was in similar shape. At the start of all of this, he’d been confident in their decision, in Steve’s leadership, but as time went on, they made more mistakes, had more close calls, and now, today, Wanda had been hurt. Steve had led them directly into a trap, and although he wasn’t specifically responsible for it, it was getting harder to find a different place to lay blame. They were all hurt, really, and would need time to rest, to recuperate, but Wanda got hit the worst, and that made Sam feel horrible.

“Here,” Steve said, setting down the first aid kit next to Sam. “What else can I do?”

“Stay out of the way,” Sam replied, a little more venomous than he intended, but it couldn’t be helped. He was tired, and stressed, and in pain, and had a problem to deal with currently. Steve knew the basics of first aid, knew how to give stitches and bandages, but Sam had a steadier hand for it, more experience with it. He got to work quick, pulling out the tongs to extract the bullet.

Steve didn’t miss the anger in his tone, and it irritated his instincts in turn, though he tried to ignore them, took a breath to silence the voice in his hindbrain that told him he was being challenged, that he should put Sam in his place. That voice was getting harder to ignore as the days drew on, and it took a lot of effort to keep himself in check. Steve grabbed Wanda’s hand instead of saying anything more, and she let out an unpleasant groan.

“Hurts…” she whimpered.

“I know it does, Wanda, but we’ll get you fixed up,” Steve replied, his face twisted with sympathy.

She hadn’t bled too much, thankfully, as the bullet didn’t hit anything important, but he had enough experience getting shot to know that it was thoroughly unpleasant. Wanda had never been hurt like this before, had been bruised and battered, but never shot, and it scared all of them, really. She looked smaller, younger like this, and Steve wondered if she wouldn’t have been better off in Tony’s hands after all, instead of out here with him. He wondered if they all would’ve been better off in Tony’s hands.

“Of course, if you’d been watching her 6 instead of beating that one guy to a pulp, she wouldn’t _need_ fixing up,” Sam grumbled, tossing away a soiled antiseptic wipe. He flexed the tongs, and put a hand on Wanda’s side to keep her from moving. He got in close, wedged the tips of the tongs under her raised skin, tugged on the bullet.

Wanda let out a shout at that, squeezed Steve’s hand, but was otherwise obediently still.

Steve didn’t quite like the accusation, and said as much. “That _guy_ was in possession of chemical weapons! If I didn’t take him out, we would’ve been dealing with a lot worse.”

Sam grit his teeth angrily, pulled the bullet out. A new trickle of blood poured out from the resulting hole, and he grabbed the gauze from the kit. “We _are_ dealing with worse! Every day things get a little more over the top, man! This time it was Wanda, who knows what it’ll be next!”

Steve bristled. Sam had become a little more combative lately, but he hadn’t flat out yelled at Steve like this, and Steve didn’t like it one bit, on any level, but especially an instinctive one. He could feel his shoulders tightening, the Alpha in him irritated, offended, at being spoken to like that. He bared his teeth just a fraction, refused to let himself slip any more than that. “I don’t know what the hell you want me to say, Sam! You knew it would be like this when you followed me! I kept trying to convince you to do otherwise, but you—“

“I followed you because I believed in you, Steve! We all did! We trusted you to lead us, to keep your damn head on straight, but you keep slipping!” He wrapped Wanda’s wound with bandages, made sure it was covered and secure, and turned his attention to Steve fully, his gaze surprisingly intense for a Beta, though after all that had happened, it wasn’t surprising.

“Guys….stop fighting,” Wanda said between them, struggling to sit up now that her wound had been dressed. Sam helped her up, his angry eyes never leaving Steve. Her words went unheeded.

“I’m doing the best I can, Sam!” Steve replied, shuffling back to get to his feet. Wanda needed to be helped over to one of the seats. “We’ve got no help, no way out, nothing to tell us what to say or do! I’m sorry things haven’t gone back to normal, that they can’t back to normal, but I don’t know what else to tell you! If I knew the right thing to do I’d tell you, but I just _don’t_ _know_!”

“Don’t pretend for a second that you feel bad for us, or anything that’s happened the last few months! You only feel bad for yourself! I’m sorry you fucked things up between you and Tony, but that doesn’t mean you can drag the rest of us down too!”

Natasha set the jet to autopilot then, had them headed to a designated safe point she’d identified a few days ago. The conversation in the back of the jet was headed downhill fast, and she knew it was about to get worse. She took swift steps there, to stop it all.

“Hey!” she snapped, pulling Wanda out of Sam’s grasp, leading her safely to one of the seats, out of the way of the arguing men. “Stop it, both of you! This isn’t the time!”

“No, this _is_ the time!” Sam insisted.

With Wanda out of the way, he had no problem stalking up to Steve, staring up into his face. They were both dirty, and there was a gash on the Alpha’s cheek, but it was already starting to heal up. Sam’s bruises wouldn’t disappear so easily, and neither would Natasha’s, or Wanda’s. Steve had it easier than them, he thought, in a lot of ways, and although Sam wasn’t insensitive, was naturally sympathetic to the blond’s plight, he’d had enough of it bleeding into their lives, making things worse for them. He’d wanted to say these things for a while, and couldn’t keep them in now.

“For weeks we’ve been trying to talk some sense into you. I know you’re hurting, I know you feel like shit, but so do we! The difference is the rest of us don’t have a super soldier serum keeping us up like you! We’re in deep shit, Steve!”

“I’m sorry!” Steve shouted, his fists clenched, his shoulders squared. He felt angry, hot, and ashamed. This was the blow up he’d been expecting ever since they left the US, ever since Steve had brought them down this path. That didn’t make it any easier to swallow now, with adrenaline still in their veins, with his head pounding and body shivering and achy, the never-ending fever of Bond Sickness wrapped tight around him, his body, his heart, like a noose. His throat tightened uncomfortably, the beginnings of a growl, a defense mechanism, a warning, and he cut it off with a clear of his throat. He didn’t want this going badly, didn’t want his instincts to take over entirely. He had to keep a lid on them this time. He had to. If he didn’t...

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I’m sorry I’m not the perfect man you think I am, but that much should’ve been clear long ago! I’m just another guy, Sam! And I make mistakes, _lots_ of them! You’re the one who put me on a pedestal, you’re the one who thought I could do no wrong, when I _told you_ time and time again that I didn’t know what I was doing! Maybe I did once, a long time ago, but now…”

“Now all we have is each other,” Natasha interrupted sharply, holding an arm between them. “Now we have to _stick together_ or give up the gig entirely. Fighting amongst ourselves isn’t going to do any good!”

“No but it’ll make me feel better!” Sam snapped back, his face twisted in a frown.

It was rare he stood up against Steve, his pack leader for all intents and purposes, but the instinctive submissiveness that came with his designation was far outweighed by months of frustration now. He was hurt, and angry, and a little scared, honestly, and everything that had happened was catching up with him. He’d reached his limit, had enough, and Steve was going to know it.

Despite Natasha’s arm between them, he managed to shove Steve a little in his anger. “So you tell me what the hell I’m supposed to do! What _we’re_ supposed to do!”

Steve was caught off guard, blinded by his tense emotions, and the push made him stumble back a little. He couldn’t stop the growl that slipped out now, and his voice went louder, a little deeper. His fists clenched so hard it hurt, shaking with the effort of restraining himself.

“Do whatever you want to do! I’m not keeping you here, Sam! You wanna go back, try to cut a deal? You do it! You wanna fuck off and try to start a new life somewhere, I’m not stopping you!” he replied, voice booming. “I don’t have anything except this! My life is _over_ Sam, and I know it’s my own goddamn fault, but that doesn’t make it any fucking easier to take!”

“Hey! Knock it off!” Natasha shouted, and put her whole body between the two of them. “This isn’t helping anything!”

“Nat’s right,” Wanda added behind them, her voice weaker. Her hands were gripped tightly around the edge of her seat. “We just…everyone needs to calm down.”

“Well maybe _Steve’s_ finally right! Maybe I should cut my losses and start over! Maybe we all should,” Sam replied, finally taking a step back. “All I know is you better clean up your fucking act, Steve! When we touch down, I’m taking a few days. I’m not following you anywhere else right now,” the Beta snapped, and stalked over to the cockpit, away from the rest of them.

The look in his eyes, the anger in his tone made Steve swallow hard. He knew he should apologize, not only for this argument, but for everything that had happened, but he was too angry to do so now. His hindbrain was still shouting at him, almost disappointed that he hadn’t given in, that he hadn’t truly commanded the room, but he wasn’t a goddamn animal. He refused to fall that far, or would, as long as he could. His heart was beating uncomfortably fast though, and his knees felt kind of weak. There was a kind of pit in his stomach now, and he felt entirely on edge, like the firefight still hadn’t ended.

Steve exhaled sharply, his jaw set tight. He glared at the floor.

Natasha took a deep breath, brushed her hair from her eyes. The air was still thick with tension, with the mixture of their scents alongside the smell of blood from Wanda’s injuries, and she didn’t think either would dissipate anytime soon. Wanda was looking miserable in her seat, for more reasons than one, and now Steve and Sam weren’t talking to each other. This was obviously going to be a long flight.

Steve brushed a hand over his face, looked down at her. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m sorry for all of this.”

Natasha knit her brows, but nodded a little. “I know you are. We’re going to have to figure something out, but for now… For now just—“

The flip phone in Steve’s pocket vibrated.

It didn’t vibrate once, though. It vibrated once, twice, three times by the time Steve got it out and into his hands, and his eyes widened, almost comically, as he realized this wasn’t another text. No, this wasn’t another text. This was a _call_.

Tony was calling him. _Tony was calling_ him. After all this time, after everything that had happened, after so many start and stop conversations that couldn’t even be called conversations at all, he was calling, unprompted, right off of the heels of an already tense situation.

For a second Steve feared the worst. Maybe Tony was in trouble. Maybe the UN had found them, and they were in danger, and something horrible was about to happen. But on the other hand, maybe Tony was finally ready to talk. Maybe he had a way to fix all of this, like he fixed everything in the past, like he probably would’ve fixed the Accords, if Steve hadn’t been too stubborn to listen to him. God, Steve hoped that was the case. He wanted nothing more than all of this to be fixed, than everything to go back to normal.

He took a few steps away from Nat, his heart in his throat, and accepted the call.

Steve’s greeting came out breathlessly. Even saying his mate’s name out loud now filled him with new fear, new anticipation. “Tony?”

“ _Cap. This is Rhodes,_ ” the voice on the phone said, and Steve’s heart sank a little. He wanted it to be Tony. He’d imagined it would be Tony. He thought this was the time, the moment, in which he’d finally hear his mate’s voice after six months. He thought this was the time when everything would start to make sense again, when things finally turned around, changed for the better.

“Rhodey…” he replied, a little stunned regardless. He hadn’t anticipated a phone call today, or any time soon, and hearing a familiar voice made him feel some type of way. He tried to hide the disappointment in his tone that it wasn’t Tony he was hearing, but he probably did a terrible job, because he _was_ disappointed. Talking to Rhodey was better than nothing, though, after all this time, even if the implications scared him.

“ _Look, we need to talk,_ ” Rhodey started, tone serious, almost business-like. It was clear the friendliness between them had disappeared, understandably.

Steve sucked in a harsh breath, a sense of panic sweeping over him. “Is—Where’s Tony? Is he okay?” he asked.

_“He’s okay for now, but…”_

The blond thought he was going to keel over. His hands felt sweaty and that pit that had settled in his stomach only seemed to grow. “But?” he asked, urgency in his tone.

_“Look, there’s a lot going on that you don’t know about. I’ve been trying to get Tony to call you for months. He’s angry, and hurt, and scared, and if it were up to me, he’d never talk to you again, but there’s bigger things at risk here. There’s something you need to know,”_ Rhodey replied.

What was going on? Why was Rhodey calling? Why hadn’t Tony called himself? Where was he? Steve felt fear creep up the back of his neck, choke him. He had too many questions, and a whole lot of thoughts, and wasn’t sure if he would like the answers. He didn’t know what he was willing to hear, what he could take hearing. If Tony was in trouble…

“What is it?” he asked, voice wavering a little.

There was a pause. Rhodey sighed in exasperation. Whatever it was, he had a hard time finding the words to say it.

The seconds stretched on, and it got harder and harder to breathe.

_“Tony’s pregnant. He was already before…before it all went to shit. He didn’t know. None of us did.”_

Steve thought the floor had dropped out from under him.

At first, he wasn’t sure he heard Rhodey right. Pregnant? Tony was _pregnant_? But they’d been careful. They were always careful, at least, _most_ of the time, and maybe Tony’s last heat had been pretty intense, left them both exhausted in the best way, and it somehow felt kind of different, but he just thought they were becoming closer, thought they were relieving some of the tension that had arisen thanks to the state of the world at the time. They hadn’t planned this, never got the chance to. Apparently it had happened anyway. Apparently the tensions, the intense emotions, the overwhelming build up the last few weeks before it all came crashing down were more than just high-strung emotions.

Apparently, Tony was carrying their baby, had been all this time, and he hadn’t said anything, never mentioned it in his brief texts, in his snide remarks or generous warnings. Apparently, he’d been carrying since _before_ , and that…That made Steve’s knees give out.

He braced a hand on the floor to catch himself, tried taking deep breaths, but felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He’d hurt Tony, in Siberia, and that was bad enough, had given him plenty of sleepless nights, plenty of regret, but now? Hearing that—that Tony was _pregnant_ then? That Steve could’ve hurt their potential child too, maybe _had_? He understood now, why the brunet refused to reach out, why he refused to let Steve back in. After all of that, he wouldn’t have forgiven himself either. He wasn’t _going_ to forgive himself. Steve was a failure, a horrible, terrible person, and he’d never felt worse than in this moment. Where had he gone so wrong? When did everything become so fucked up?

“I—I—“ He couldn’t find words between his sharp breaths.

“Steve?” Nat asked behind him. He couldn’t see with his back turned, but she recoiled a little at the sharp change in his scent, in the misery and fear that filled the air.

He couldn’t smell it himself though. He could hardly even feel his body at this point, a numbness filling his limbs. He had the coherency to shake his head and wave a hand at her, and sat down on the floor before his legs could start truly shaking. He couldn’t talk to her, couldn’t say anything to her until this call was done, until he could think clearly.

Rhodey was talking again, and it took Steve a moment to process his words.

_“The baby’s okay, and so is Tony, for now. But they won’t be. Things aren’t looking good, which is why I’m calling you.”_

“What…what can I do?” Steve asked, and the desperation in his tone was apparent. His voice was raw, strained, and it took effort to get the words out, to keep his thoughts coherent. He felt nauseous, and terrified, and ashamed, and nothing he had been through in the last few months compared to it.

_“This whole mess between you two? It_ needs _to be fixed. You have to talk to each other, come to some kind of understanding. You can’t come back, maybe ever, but talking with each other, opening up, will help settle the Bond Sickness, at least a bit. If you don’t try, he’s going to get sicker, and the baby…well, I don’t have to spell it out for you.”_

“I’ve tried,” Steve replied, and his tone was earnest. His free hand opened and closed, like he was grasping for something, reaching out. “I’ve tried to call, so many times. He won’t—he won’t give me the chance to—“

_“It’s different now. The stakes are raised.”_ Rhodey heaved a little sigh. _“Look, he doesn’t know I’m calling you right now. He’s in bed. He passed out today. But, I’m calling you because this needs to be done.”_

“He _passed out_? How sick is he? What’s been going on?”

_“He’s pretty sick. He won’t admit it to himself, but he is. I assume you’re not doing too hot yourself.”_

“I get by,” Steve replied, and the thought made him bitter. Tony was out there, sicker than him, suffering _because_ of him, and all the while, still hadn’t said a word, hadn’t told Steve what was happening to him, in any capacity. Steve didn’t get it. He just didn’t get it. “He didn’t tell me. He hasn’t told me a thing.”

_“I know. He doesn’t know if he wants to talk to you. He’s afraid of it.”_

“Why?” Steve asked, and maybe it was a stupid question, but it slipped out anyway.

_“Why? For fuck’s sake, Rogers. You turned your back on him, on all of us, stole half the team and fucked off to nowhere! You turned yourself into a goddamn fugitive, and now, the only way you’re getting back here is in custody. Ross has been on our backs since you left. If he finds out about this, about the fact that you’ve been talking, who knows what the hell he’ll do.”_

“If he puts a finger on Tony—“

_“I’ll protect him. That’s my job. It was yours, too,”_ Rhodey snapped, and even across the ocean it made Steve flinch.

His throat got tight, and his eyes stung. He felt so ashamed, so horrible, for everything that had happened, and everything that _would_ happen. He’d ruined it all, for all of them. And now? Now they had a child on the way, a child Steve would probably never even get to meet. They’d wanted that, together. It always seemed like it was never the right time, like it’d never be a possibility, but now it was becoming a reality, and Steve was a goddamn wanted man and Tony was left to deal with it all himself. They were a broken team, a broken _family_ because of him, shattered, and may never be whole again. Would Tony even tell their child about him? What would he say?

God, it was so much to process. They were having a _baby_. Soon there would be a little person born, the combination of him and Tony, _their_ child. They’d dreamed of that so many times, wanted it, in a better world, a safer world, somewhere down the line, when things were good and perfect. Steve had so many questions. How far along was Tony exactly? Just how sick was he? Was the baby okay? Had Steve _hurt_ it during their fight? What was the baby’s sex? Who all _knew?_ Tony must have been keeping it a secret, or else Steve surely would’ve heard, or seen something by now. News like that would have travelled fast, even to remote parts of the world.

Was he…was he ashamed? Of Steve, of the mistakes he’d made? Or was he afraid something would happen if the news was made public? The thought of someone, or something threatening Tony, and their baby, had anger flaring up in Steve, tugging at his core, at the sharp, instinctive heat in his hindbrain. But he was so far away now, and they were so far apart. He knew there was nothing he could do, really, at all, but if Rhodey said speaking to Tony would help, Steve would _gladly_ do so. That’s all he’d _wanted_ to do all this time, to at least have the chance to apologize properly. It wouldn’t fix much, wouldn’t help much, he knew, but it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?

“Will he talk to me?” Steve asked. “Will he?” He wasn’t sure Tony would. He knew how stubborn Tony was, just as much, if not more so than Steve, and he was _rightfully_ still upset, but the last thing Steve wanted was the brunet putting himself in more danger, in more harm, just to avoid an unpleasant conversation. He knew it’d be unpleasant. He knew it would be hard, but he wanted it, needed it. They both did.

_“He will. I’ll handle it,”_ Rhodey replied firmly, sensing Steve’s trepidation, even through the phone.

There was a little pause. Steve swallowed hard in the silence. There were so many things to say, to ask, he hardly knew where to begin. “Look, I’m so sorry, about everything. I wish I could—“

_“Save it for Tony,”_ Rhodey replied, cutting him off. _“If it were up to me, I’d leave your sorry ass to feel miserable for the rest of your life, after what you did. But this is about Tony, and I’m sick of seeing him get worse. He deserves to feel better, and unfortunately, the only thing that’ll make him feel better is you.”_

The blond tried to absorb that, ran a hand over his face. “When can I talk to him?” he asked.

_“Just sit tight. When he wakes up, I’ll tell him what I’ve done. He’ll probably be pissed, and it might take a while, but I’ll make sure he calls.”_

Steve nodded. “Okay,” he replied. “I’ll…I’ll be waiting.”

_“You better,”_ Rhodey replied.

And with that, he hung up.

Steve was practically frozen in place. It took a few seconds to remember how to get his limbs to move, to pull the phone from his ear and snap it closed. It slid out of his hand and onto the floor in front of him. He felt cold, and kind of numb, and his brain was so entirely filled with questions and thoughts that it felt almost empty, like it was full of white noise. He sat there, his eyes fixed on some unknown point, trying to remember how to breathe, how to function.

Eventually, Natasha’s voice reached his ears. “Steve, are you alright? Talk to me, big guy.”

“I….Tony…” His tongue felt heavy, like lead. He struggled to get it working.

“Is he okay?” Natasha asked, coming over and setting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

She fought the urge to recoil at Steve’s scent—it hadn’t been pleasant at all lately, but this, this sudden surge of misery and regret and despair was almost suffocating. The implications scared her a little, and her question was an urgent one.

Surely Tony was okay, right? Tony had the whole compound, all of his tech to protect him, and the protection of the Accords. Surely nothing had happened to him in their absence. But Steve was so distressed, more than he’d been after Siberia, more than he’d been any day since all of this began, and it could only be because of whatever he heard on the other end of that phone call.

There was a pause. Steve didn’t seem to be able to work out a response. Nat shook away her thoughts, tried again. “Steve?”

“He’s pregnant,” Steve replied. Speaking the words out loud made it all dawn on him, truly, and the panic bubbled up, fill every fiber of his being. “He’s pregnant, he was pregnant in Siberia, and I—I hurt him so bad, I hurt him Nat, I hurt him!” he flinched away from her touch, spun around to look at her with wide, pain-filled eyes.

“He’s _pregnant_?” Wanda said somewhere behind them, and Sam came up the rear, disbelief on his face.

Natasha held her hands out in a calming gesture for everyone, though she stumbled over her words too, the news coming as more than a little shock. “I—W-wait, okay, calm down—“

Steve shook his head, clenched his fists. “Fuck, I can’t calm down! God, _jesus!_ I’m such a piece of shit, I’m so—“

“Steve, just calm down! He’s okay, right? W-what did Rhodey _say?_ ”

The blond let out a few harsh breaths, tried to gather his thoughts. He thought he was going to pass out, truly. The world was spinning, and he thought he was going to throw up again. His head fell in his hands. “He—the Bond Sickness...It’s making him sick, making the baby sick. We have to fix it, I have to…I have to apologize.”

Natasha tried to absorb that. She swallowed hard, exchanged glances with Sam and Wanda, who seemed equally distressed. It was a lot to take in, really.

The news was welcome and unwelcome at the same time. On the one hand, this was the first true contact they’d had since all of this started, the first inkling that something could change, but on the other hand, it wouldn’t change _enough_. They had burned their bridges long ago, and even if Tony needed them now, needed Steve, he and they couldn’t get back to him. She knew that. They all knew that. They had turned their back on him, because they thought it was the right thing to do, because they thought he was in the wrong, and now he was going through a life-changing event without his mate, without the full support of his team. Even if they tried to get back, even if Tony was part of the negotiations, they wouldn’t be favorable. A prison sentence was assured for all of them, and maybe worse. They could try to sneak back in under the radar, but if Tony was implicated because of it, that would make everything even worse. Neither option was ideal, and there wasn’t a third.

In short, they were trapped, in a horrible situation, with no way out.

That low-simmering regret, that doubt she’d been feeling these last few weeks, now tripled, echoed loud and clear in Natasha’s heart, and in her brain.

They had fucked up. They had _really_ fucked up.

No one knew what to say.

Steve could feel tears spilling out now, but made no move to wipe them away. He made no move at all, really. His chest heaved and he let out sputtering breaths, sitting there on the floor of the jet. He had already felt horrible before, but hearing the news, understanding the true severity of the situation destroyed any sense of self worth he had left. The pit in his stomach consumed him, and his neck burned, and his head hurt, and his heart felt like it was breaking, and there was nothing to do about it. It was his fault. It was _all_ his fault, everything that had happened in Siberia, and everything since. Steve had hoped what he’d been doing these last few months would make up for his mistakes, for the things he’d done. Now, he knew nothing would.

He had nothing left to do but wait now: wait for Tony to call, wait for Tony to curse him, for all that he’d done, and to hope the brunet would show him mercy, would set him on the path of penance. He knew there was no going back to the way things were. He had held out hope these last few months that maybe one day things would go back, that one day he would have the privilege of holding Tony in his arms again, of earning his forgiveness, but now, he knew he never would have that. Tony would talk to him, yes, for the sake of their child, a child Steve would most likely never be allowed to meet, but Steve would be a stranger to them both, an unfortunate necessity for the time being, he was sure, and that made him feel worse than anything, knowing that Tony was suffering because of him, and that he couldn’t escape that suffering. He would probably never want to see Steve again, but would never be free of him, of their connection, of their shared past.

Steve could never let go, even if he wanted to, but being unable to give _Tony_ the chance he deserved to let go, to cast Steve out entirely, made him feel horrible, made him feel even more selfish and miserable and disgusting than he already did.

Steve didn’t know what to do. None of them did. Nobody had any answers before, and they certainly had none now. The only thing there was left to do was wait, and wait they did, sitting or standing in silence and misery until the Quinjet landed again, and the planet, unfortunately, spun on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and continuing to keep up with this series! I know things are going crazy in the world right now, and a lot of people, myself included, are kind of terrified, so I'm glad to offer some entertainment/escapism with my fics. I love all of you. Please leave your thoughts in the comments, I'm excited to hear what you all have to say about this one!
> 
> PS: BLM <3 <3 <3  
> PPS: I'm posting this after midnight so Happy Pride Month from your local bisexual disaster


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